Just another glass, please.
I know how many it's been. I don't care.
My thirst, I must appease,
till better I fare.
The whiskey has no effect.
It's just in my head,
a mindful defect.
It just feels so dead.
The dull shelf lighting,
illuminating the gloomy liquor bottles.
And now all of the fighting
has stopped and all settled to hostels.
A small, yet dark and thick pall
drooled over the bar.
And I've become stuck to my stall,
but the exit door is so so far.
And the candle is all but burned out.
Across which once I would be greeted
by equally loving eyes, no doubt.
But now with darkness defeated.
I can just hear her laugh
if I close my eyes hard enough.
It's becoming easier as I become drowsier.
But I can't sleep on a night as such.
Tonight is drowning night.
So send another round Joe.
It's too much, maybe you're right.
But I will no longer toss to and fro.
